She peeked over, taking note of Brandon sitting beside him, laughing at some manly joke, no doubt. She didn’t care. She was here to work, not to make friends. She tucked her earbuds in her ears and tried to lose herself in one of her favorite glossy magazines, but she couldn’t help checking on the pair every couple of minutes to see what else they were doing. Mostly talking and laughing. She sniffed. Brandon was so easily led. Not like her.
She didn’t realize she was staring until someone walked in front of her, cutting off her line of vision. She blinked, but before she could tuck herself back into the shadows, Jake spotted her and waved. Her stomach churned when he motioned that she should join them. As if everything between them was fine.
For one short moment, she debated pretending that she hadn’t seen his gesture or maybe hadn’t understood it, but common sense kicked in. Avoiding him now was sure to make things even worse and she was pretty sure it would be bad enough as it was. Better just get it over with, and text with Jilly later.
“Ava.” Brandon’s cheerful voice rose above the buzz of travelers as she neared them. “What were you doing over there?”
“I didn’t see you,” she said, though she could tell by the small lift of Jake’s eyebrows that he didn’t believe her. Whatever. If he hadn’t planted himself in the middle of the waiting area, in front of the check-in gate like some braniac sitting at the front of the class, she might not have seen him. And who sat in those seats anyway unless they needed extra help getting onto the plane? She tucked her magazine into her bag so that she didn’t have to look at Jake looking at her.
“Is this festival going to be great or what?” Brandon said. The cameraman was only twenty-three and still excited by the travel and glitz of the film community.
Ava understood. She’d felt the same way when she’d attended her first film festival. The stars, the glamour, the never-ending parties. But that was back when staying up all night on a diet of vodka and Red Bull had no effect on her the following morning. Now after a night of hard partying, she was lucky to make her call time, let alone look presentable on camera. The downfall of turning thirty. “I guess that means you’re ready for the festival?”
“Hell, yeah. You coming out with me tonight?” He started to shift to make space for her to sit between him and Jake, but Ava was quicker. She squished herself into the seat on the other side of Brandon, even though there was a large family taking up half of it.
“Depends. What’s happening tonight?” She was careful to keep her gaze from straying to Jake. But she could feel him watching her. Probably wondering why she’d practically twisted herself into a pretzel just so she didn’t have to sit beside him, when things were supposed to be okay between them.
Brandon’s gray eyes sparkled. “I heard about this killer party to launch some new vodka. All on the down low. No invites or advertising. They send a text telling you where and when.” He turned to Jake. “You in?”
It was instinctual to look across Brandon at Jake. He looked about as excited as she felt. “I appreciate the invite, Brando.” Brando? He’d already given him a nickname? “But I’m a little old for that crowd.”
Brandon turned back to Ava. “He sounds like you.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Ava said, wanting to distance herself from anything Jake-like.
Now Brandon was the one raising an eyebrow her way. “Yeah, he does. You always make some lame excuse to bail.”
“Wanting to avoid crop circles under my eyes is not lame.”
“Isn’t that why they have makeup?”
“There is not enough makeup in the world,” Ava told him. “And believe me, I’ve looked for it.”
“See?” Brandon shook his head. “Lame.”
“It’s not lame.” She could feel Jake’s eyes on her. Embarrassment burned up the back of her neck and made her hairline itch. She refocused on Brandon. “What time does it start? Maybe I’ll go if it’s not too late.”
Brandon laughed. “That’s what you always say and then you never show up.”
“Only because I’m older and wiser than you.”
“Also, less fun.”
“I’m plenty of fun. A barrel-of-monkeys worth of fun.” She was superfun and she didn’t appreciate Brandon making it seem otherwise. Jake was going to think she was some weirdo whose idea of a good time was doing laundry. Not that she cared what he thought.
“Oh, Aves.” Brandon slung an arm around her shoulders. “You know I love you, but sometimes you act like a grandma.”
“I am not a grandma.” Seriously, she was only thirty-two. She hadn’t even gotten her first gray hair yet. But the heat crept from the back of her neck to her cheeks. Her gaze darted to Jake. “For the record, I am plenty of fun.” She didn’t know why she felt the need to assure him of that. Why she needed to assure him of anything.
“I know.” A half smile curled his lips, and a different kind of heat joined the burning in her face. She swiped a hand at her cheek, annoyed that any of this was affecting her at all.
“Oh, yeah?” Brandon turned to Jake while Ava unhooked his arm and wished she’d kept her eyes to herself. “Did you get her to go out partying?”
Ava peeked at Jake from beneath her lashes.
“Sure. She was lots of fun at that Valentine’s Day party.”
Oh, God. Why hadn’t she just let Brandon call her lame? “Anti-party,” Ava corrected even as her face burned more intensely. And why did Jake have to bring that up? It was just some innocent flirting that didn’t mean a thing, and had happened before she really knew him.
“Anti-party,” Jake agreed, his eyes locked with hers.
Ava broke eye contact and pretended to be busy checking for movement at their departure gate. And okay, so maybe she and Jake had almost kissed during the soiree. But almost didn’t count, right?
She should have done what every self-respecting single woman did on Valentine’s Day: splurged on a good bottle of wine and shared it with the video version of George Clooney. But no, she’d had to listen to Jilly and go out to prove that she didn’t need a boyfriend to have a good time on a Hallmark holiday.
Unaware of her inner turmoil, Brandon was still harping on about going out tonight. “So then come to this party. I promise it will be cooler than your anti-thing.”
She shrugged, knowing there was no way on earth she’d be dragging herself to anything that even remotely resembled the anti–Valentine’s Day near disaster. Not when Jake was in the vicinity. “I’ll think about it.”
He looked at Jake. “What about you?”
“If Ava goes, I’ll consider it.”
Oh, yeah, as if that was going to convince her.
They were both looking at her now. Ava shifted in the chair and wished she’d just stayed in her old seat.
“It might be fun,” Jake said.
She doubted that. “I said I’ll think about it.” Then she tossed her hair, pulled out her magazine and did her best to ignore the sudden pounding of her heart. She was not going to be affected by Jake during this trip.
She hoped.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE FLIGHT TO ROCKDALE, Idaho, was a short one. Thank God, because somehow Ava ended up sitting next to Jake. Fortunately, with her iPod cranked she was able to avoid conversation. But even with the Black Eyed Peas pumping, she couldn’t ignore the fact that Jake was right beside her and taking up way more than his fair share of armrest space.
She flipped the page of her magazine and ignored the voic
e in her head that sounded exactly like her mother, telling her that this was a perfect opportunity to start building a productive relationship. All she wanted to do was get to the hotel and splash some cold water on her face.
She started to feel better once she managed to snag a cab to herself. With all of Brandon’s equipment plus luggage for three people, they couldn’t all fit in a regular cab and no taxi vans were available. After a hurried discussion, Ava had convinced them to let her take the first cab alone so that Jake could help Brandon lug his cargo. The fact that it gave her some time without worrying about Jake Durham was just a bonus.
Though the official grand opening didn’t kick off until tonight, the small town was already hopping. Ava spotted a famous starlet and equally famous little dog, both wearing matching pink coats, drinking coffee on Main Street. Down the block a trio of up-and-coming actors were punching each other on the shoulders and laughing. Everywhere she looked there were famous and semifamous faces.
Plenty of things to think about besides the fact that her executive producer still had the ability to make her shiver.
She unpacked quickly, pleased to discover that her dress for tonight had survived the flight unwrinkled, giving her extra time to decide on which shoes to wear with it. She’d brought three possible pairs. She’d just decided that the nude peep-toes were out—the heel was too high to stand in all night—when her BlackBerry began to sing. Jill Sobule’s “Supermodel,” best known for being featured in the movie Clueless and so Jilly, jangled through the room.
Checking in on my bestie. Have you arrived? Has George asked for your hand in marriage yet? Also, your mother called me.
Ava ignored the surge of irritation at her mother’s interference and put the discarded shoe option in the closet.
Just got in. The room is superswank. Don’t tell Harvey or he’ll send Tommy next year. No George, but give me time. (Unless, of course, Rob Lowe is in town.) Ignore my mother. I do.
Your mom rocks. She’s worried about you. (You have a weird fetish for ’80s heartthrobs.)
My mother would lecture you for using “rock” to describe her. “I am not an inanimate object, Jillian.” And I don’t know why she’d be worried. I’m a grown woman. (Eighties heartthrobs? Please, Rob Lowe is still a heartthrob.)
Ava tried not to sigh and failed. Not about the ’80s heartthrobs—they were still totally sigh-worthy—but why wouldn’t her mother accept that she was fine?
She totally would. Bwahaha. She says she’s worried about the cohost promotion. She thinks you’re taking it harder than you let on. She wants me to find out if you’re okay. Are you? (I will give you that Rob is still utterly doable. But what are your thoughts about Emilio Estevez?)
Ava put the two remaining shoe options side by side. One was a delicate silver sandal, the other a black platform pump. Both coordinated nicely with her dress, which was deep purple.
I’m fine. Or I will be as soon as I get through this festival. (Emilio? After he broke Paula Abdul’s heart, I just can’t look at him the same way again. Poor, sweet, loopy Paula. I’m forever her girl.)
You’re better than fine, which George will surely see because he is beautiful and smart. Although, your hot one-night-stand romance doesn’t have to be George. Any Hollywood hunk will do.
The silver sandal looked better. They left her feet practically bare and it was going to be icy tonight, but Ava couldn’t resist their glitter against the dark hue of her gown.
Thanks for the update. I’ll let the hunk brigade know that I’m available. Hair up or down tonight?
Down. Low ponytail with sleek sides. Easy and polished. Total hunk bait.
* * *
AVA DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT hunk bait, but she was pleased with the smooth look the hairstylist had achieved. The only problem was that it left her ears exposed and they were currently threatening to freeze and fall off her head to shatter on the cold sidewalk below. Her choice of sandals didn’t help, either.
She wished she could put a hat on, but there were still a couple of hours before the start of the movie premiere and she and Brandon were milling around the red carpet waiting for the first arrivals. It was one thing to sport hat head on her own time. Another thing entirely to show it off to their show’s entire viewing audience.
Jake had gone to pick up some hot coffee in the hopes it would combat the low temperature. The day, not warm to begin with, had gotten even colder as soon as the sun set, making it feel as if they were inside a freezer. Ava didn’t know how people stood it. She’d take a rainy Vancouver winter any day.
“So what’s the deal?” Brandon asked, clapping his gloved hands together as they waited on the red carpet. “Are you coming out with me tonight or not?”
“I don’t think so.” Her dress, though fabulous, was not made for long exposure in winter weather and was currently covered by a heavy wool coat, scarf and leather gloves. She wore yoga pants underneath the gown, but had little hope they would do much to keep her warm. When this was all over, she’d need a hot bath, not a cool party.
“I knew it. You always bail.”
“I don’t always bail,” she said. “I went out with you in Italy.” She and Brandon had covered the Venice Film Festival last September and spent one memorable night on a patio drinking enough wine to float themselves back to the hotel. Except she had gone back to the hotel alone. Brandon had gone back to the contessa’s villa.
“One time in how many festivals? Three? Four? And how many parties?” He started to count and then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, I’ve invited you a lot. And you’ve only come out once. You’re due.”
“I’m sure you’ll have a good time without me.” She patted him on the shoulder.
“I will, but I would have more fun if you came along.” His smile made his eyes twinkle, tempting her. “You were a great wingman in Italy.”
Ava laughed, remembering that she’d been the one to talk to the contessa first. The woman had been wearing a pair of heels too gorgeous to ignore. “I think you can handle it on your own.” Plus, she didn’t feel like getting ditched. “Besides, I’ve got an exciting night planned. Room service and going to bed.”
“Seriously?” Brandon rolled his eyes at her obvious lameness. “At least go out for dinner.”
“I might,” Ava said. She often did at the festivals. She was usually buzzing after filming and it took a while to come down. “I’ll decide later.”
“You sound exactly like Jake.” Brandon ducked to look at his camera and missed the jolt that rolled through her. Good thing, too. She didn’t know how she’d explain it. “He gave me the brush-off earlier, said it wasn’t really his scene.” He fiddled with the lens. “You guys should go somewhere together. You’d probably get a free meal out of it.”
There weren’t enough words in the world for Ava to explain how that was so not worth it, so she shrugged instead. “I can pay for myself.”
That’s what she had a per diem for. And unlike Brandon she didn’t look for ways to save the money to spend on other things. One of the benefits of being over thirty and financially stable.
“But wouldn’t it be more fun to go out for dinner with someone?”
When that person was Jake, Ava was certain that eating alone was highly preferable.
She was saved from having to answer by the flash of a camera. Grateful for the distraction, Ava peered down the line, saw the swish of a long train, the glint of expensive stones, the flutter of f
eathers. She peeled off her coat and scarf. “We’ve got something,” she said. Something that should keep them busy for the next hour or more and would hopefully make Brandon forget all about his idea that Jake and Ava should go out together.
“On it.” Brandon already had the camera on his shoulder and was scanning the crowd for whatever had caused the commotion.
Energy zipped through Ava and warmed her skin. And not just because she felt as though she’d dodged a bullet. This was it. Showtime. She dropped her gloves onto the pile of winter clothing at her feet and saw Jake coming toward her, a tray of coffee in hand. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for a quick hit. But then she’d have coffee breath and there was no time to chew gum. “It’s starting,” she told him, clutching her mic instead.
She felt him watching her as she positioned herself for Brandon’s shot, and lifted a cold hand to smooth her hair. He kept watching. Why? “Everything okay?” she asked.
“Fine.” He tilted his head, studying her as if she was an exotic flower he’d stumbled upon in the forest. “You look good.”
“Thanks.” She managed to smile calmly, as though she was used to getting compliments from men all the time, even as she felt herself flush hotter. Then she turned away, slowly, to make sure he got a good view of the way the dress hugged her curves, and focused on doing her job.
By the time the last celebrity had spoken, the last publicist had walked into the theater and the crews had started to pack up, Ava was physically beat. Her feet hurt, her back ached and her cheeks and ears were frozen, but mentally, she felt as if she’d been mainlining caffeine.
That Weekend... Page 5
